


Drunk or Drugged?

by Nicnag



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood, Clay Spenser Whump, Drunkenness, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:50:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicnag/pseuds/Nicnag
Summary: Clay is left reeling after an encounter with both Rebecca and Stella in the same night. He decides he needs some space from the team, not wanting to let his brothers know he jumped into a doomed relationship, again. He doesn’t remember his evening after a couple beers and shots til he awakes in Sonny’s spare bed the next morning, hung over. The team comes together for Clay.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 96





	Drunk or Drugged?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fluffier piece and centers on the warm, fuzzy feelings of brotherhood and this team. While drunkenness and drug use is mentioned, it’s not in detail and does not involve any of the team doing harm to their bodies by excessive drinking and drug use. Pretty clean content other than whats mentioned above, no swearing, no smut

The team had just returned from a 3 month deployment overseas that went sideways from the moment they stepped off the plane til they stepped back onto it. Jason lost count how many times he could have lost each of his teammates. Trent still has stitches in his cheek and shoulder from a knife attack. Cerb had been exposed to a chemical that is dangerous to dogs but not humans while carrying out a mission. All of the guys took turns sitting by Cerb’s kennel even though Brock wouldn’t leave the dog. Clay was sent as a bodyguard, against Jason’s choice, for a dignitary that had received death threats. Road rash on his right hip still smarted when he pulled his boxers up. Ray had been shot in his chest plate not even an inch from the edge of it which they all know would have killed him. Even Jason didn’t get off scot free. He was knocked out from falling debris caused by explosions as they fortified themselves inside a small café. Mexico flashed back in each and every one of their minds. That’s why the phone call to Sonny at 3 am on a Wednesday morning from the police station was never anticipated.

“Is this Sonny Quinn?”

“Who’s asking?”

“This is Officer Seabright at VBPD. Bartender called us as there was a patron who had passed out. The man asked us to call you. He said being taken in would ruin his career and we felt that getting drunk and passing out shouldn’t take away everything someone has worked for, especially since he’s defending our country.”

Sonny knew right away who the officer was calling him about. 

“Where do I pick him up Officer?”

“The Red Rose tavern.”

“Red Rose tavern? What the hell was he doing clear out there?” Sonny fumed, not meaning to say what he was thinking out loud.

“I will be there in 20 minutes, thanks.”

All the way to the bar, Sonny kept thinking of all the things he was going to say to Clay for being so stupid, for going out alone, for going somewhere no one knew he was even at, for waking Sonny up at 3am, but as soon as he got to the tavern, his anger started to disappear. He couldn’t help it. Clay was sitting on the bench outside the taverns front door, head in his hands and elbows on his knees. When Sonny approached, Clay couldn’t even look him in the eye. He mumbled a thank you while Sonny shook the officers hand and thanked him again for calling. As Sonny slammed the truck door behind him, Clay flinched. Sonny turned on the interior light to get a better look at the Kid, but he shielded his eyes from the glaring light. Sonny flicked the light off and started to drive to his place. Sonny didn’t know if Clay had passed out again, fallen asleep or just, for once, didn’t have anything to say. When Sonny turned off his engine in the parking stall, Clay quickly got out barely missing Sonny’s door as he heaved his dinner onto the cement.

As soon as the heaving had ceased, Sonny looped his arm around Clays and helped him into his apartment. Clay began to heave again almost missing the toilet as Sonny rushed him to the bathroom. He let Clay lean his face against the coolness of the shower door as he struggled to keep down the bile that was threatening to come back up. It was a struggle he did not win. Sonny would normally make a joke about asking him what all he ate or how many girly drinks it took to get him drunk, but there had been only one other time he had seen his friend like this and that was in Mexico, after Stella ended things.

It didn’t make sense though. He went to an event with Rebecca the night before, beaming as he told Sonny about her. While Sonny really wanted to get to the bottom of this, he knew talking right now wouldn’t net any benefit. He helped Clay get cleaned up and into his extra bed. He still had some of Clay’s toiletries and clothes from when he stayed at Sonny’s after an injury while he recuperated so he’d just keep Clay at his place for now.

Sonny watched from the doorway making sure Clay was resting before he quietly took a place on the couch with a clear view to the bed. He knew he should call Jason, but if Clay wanted Jason there he would have called him instead of Sonny. Sonny’s phone alarm beeped while he was lost in thought, startling him. He had set a 4am wake up alarm to get an early start on the day. He figured he’d get his PT done early before the hottest part of the day. There was no way he was going now, so he settled back down into the couch and quickly fell asleep.

Bang. Clatter. Crash. Sonny awoke with a start, reaching for his handgun under the couch before seeking out what had made the sounds. He sighed when he realized Clay had dropped a frying pan, standing in just his tight black boxers and his hair a bigger mess than usual. Sonny clicked the safety back on and tucked the gun back into his hiding spot. The noise had obviously caused the pain in Clay’s head to worsen as he held onto the counter over the sink afraid he’d be sick. Sonny knew he wouldn’t have to say a word. He knew that eventually Clay would talk, like he always does.

“How’d you find me?” was all he asked before Sonny rose to his feet and entered the kitchen, leaning on his elbows over the island and what all Clay did and did not remember.

“Officer Seabright said you asked for him to call me instead of taking you down to the station. He saw that you were in the military and cut you some slack,” Sonny offered as an answer.

“Why the hell were you at Red Rose? You know that’s not a military friendly bar in the worst part of town in all this area.

“I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew,” Clay quietly admitted as he turned back to the pan he was heating up on the stove. Sonny reached over and clicked the heat off and turned Clay to face him, but not too quickly in case he was still nauseous.

“You can’t go drinking places with no one there, you especially can’t do that when you get so drunk you pass out on the bar stool,” Sonny said as he tried to contain his anger at the kid’s lack of judgment. 

Maybe it wasn’t anger, maybe Clay had broken down the walls of his heart and what Sonny was feeling was concern. Sonny had had younger teammates than himself before, but never this young at such a high degree of expertise. He felt like an older brother and Clay let him fill the role. Neither had actual brothers and Sonny was the baby in his family.

Clay knew he wasn’t getting out of this conversation til he satisfied Sonny’s query. He can’t blame him since he was the one who had to drag his ass out of bed at 3 am. 

“You were right.” 

Sonny opened his mouth to speak, to make a jab at how he liked to hear he was right and Clay was wrong, but he snapped his mouth shut when Clay finally looked him in the eye.

“You were right. Rebecca was just using me.” While Sonny had told Clay to be careful, he never truly imagined anything of the sort would actually happen.

“I’m sorry Clay,” Sonny sympathized. He truly was sorry Clay had to deal with another failed attempt at a relationship.

“At the dinner last night, she kept introducing me telling the others that I was finally ready to start making a difference for this country, that I was looking to leave the barbaric lifestyle of war hopefully sooner rather than later,” Clay angrily spat making it clear that Rebecca had touched a nerve. It touched his, too. Sonny just quietly listened, not knowing what he could say to the Kid.

“One guy launched into a tirade how we should cut down military expenses because, and I quote, there haven’t been any attacks on this country since 9/11,” Clay scoffed, still pissed.

“Doesn’t he know that it’s because of the military that there haven’t been any repeats of 9/11?” Sonny questioned, reflecting on the goal of why he does what he does, so this country wouldn’t have to see what he sees in other parts of the world.

“I couldn’t defend myself because Rebecca cut in thanking this Senator for pushing a bill that would reduce the excess spending to train servicemen and women because she agreed with his sentiment. She then expected me to share the same opinion, to thank the senator, to tell them that I felt I was over trained for the lack of combat while not active. I told him that I have done more for this country than he could ever know and told Rebecca that I already was making a difference as a SEAL, once again realizing that politics is bullshit. Then I left, but not before ensuring Rebecca could get herself home. I’m still a gentleman.”

Sonny reached out to Clay and put his hand on his shoulder giving it a slight squeeze. 

“You need Trent?” was all Sonny asked before he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Clay realized he wasn’t really asking. 

“Trent, you busy?” Clay could only hear half the conversation.

“Could you head to my place with a banana bag?”

“I will explain when you get here.”

“No, I did not get drunk last night, I was in bed by 10pm stone cold sober.”

Clay could imagine Trent reaming Sonny out thinking he was the one who needed IV fluids and vitamins for his hangover.

Clay let Sonny make the sausage he had started while he sat on the couch, waiting for the lecture that was sure to follow Trent’s assessment. 

As Clay relayed in detail what all had happened, Trent looked to Sonny when Clay said he couldn’t remember anything after what he thought was his last drink at the bar.

“Were you drinking the night before?”

“One glass of champagne.”

“How much did you have last night?” Trent asked, more concerned as he realized Clay would have had to drink himself into this state in just one night.

“I had two beers, the bartender must have felt sorry for me because he poured me a couple shots on the house. Next thing I know, the bartender is helping me to a booth as I heard him tell everyone it was ‘Last Call.’ Then I’m in Sonny’s bed.”

Trent began to have suspicions this wasn’t a drunken stupor and was even more upset that Clay had gone out alone somewhere he had no one to watch his back, and Trent let him know exactly that.

“I didn’t want to have to talk about all this or tell you I saw Stella last night too.” Hearing Stella’s name, Sonny and Trent gave each other a glance that didn’t go unnoticed despite Clay’s throbbing head.

“She was at my apartment waiting for me to show up. She told me she wanted to move closer to the college so she wouldn’t have to drive so far, said there was a place open on the other side of the complex from me.” Clay hesitated before he revealed the rest of the story.

“I was feeling down about Rebecca so I let Stella come in, thinking I could get my mind off what just happened, but Stella just made it worse. She said she was sorry for breaking things off with me, sorry for how she did it, sorry that she hadn’t apologized sooner as she didn’t know how to say it all. Then she put her arms around me and, well, she made me feel better, at least for that moment. When we were….done….she said she could move back in and we pick right back up where we had left off, it wasn’t a question, it was her thinking she could just say she was sorry and I’d take her back, since I was the one who didn’t want our relationship to end.” Clay looked down at the floor as he told his two teammates what he and Stella had done, ashamed.

When Clay stopped, Sonny prodded him on, still wondering how he ended up at the Red Rose Tavern a half hour from his place. 

“She said she ran into my dad at the book store, said he was real proud of me for challenging the politics that have prevented Swanny from getting a purple heart, that I was going to make a great politician. So when she stopped over, she thought I was leaving the team to focus on a new career. When I told her, just like I told her parents when I met them, I wanted to become a political figure, it wouldn’t be anytime soon, that I still wanted to be a SEAL, to eventually lead my own team, but I do have more goals for after my team days are over. She made a comment about how she didn’t want me to turn into Jason, not knowing when to hang it up.”

Trent whistled low as Sonny tried to contain the building anger he had for her. She and Jason butted heads, but that was because Stella couldn’t handle being with a SEAL. There weren’t many women like Naima but there was a plethora of frog hogs, those that were infatuated with the idea of being with a SEAL but then couldn’t handle their guy’s job.

“Clay, I’m going to draw some blood, see if you need anything more than fluids.”

“I’ll be fine, maybe the stress got to me, I’m sure after a nap I will feel better.”

“I’m still going to take blood since I have an IV started, won’t be an extra stick.”

Sonny was curious as to why Trent was drawing blood, but didn’t want to raise any concern in Clay, so he waited til after the two had helped Clay back to bed. Sonny pulled the covers over Clay, trying to make some sort of assemblance of the bed that looked like a tornado had touched down. Trent hung the IV bag on the post to the bed making sure it stayed about the IV site. Trent patted Clay on the arm before he and Sonny left the room.

“You gonna tell me why you were drawing blood? You’ve never done that for any of us,” Sonny queried.

“I didn’t think any of you had been drugged,” was all Trent said as he loaded up his medic bag. 

Sonny froze, wide eyed and mouth agape staring at his brother. Trent continued as Sonny was at a loss for words. Trent could count on one hand how many times this has happened. He only needed 3 fingers for that.

“Clay didn’t drink much and even if he had more drinks after he was moved to the booth, that doesn’t explain why he passed out on the bar stool. We’ve all been stressed and tired mentally and physically and drank ourselves into a stupor, but that was done with a bottle of Jack or Jose. No way did a couple beers and shots do this.”

“Who would have done something like that?” Sonny wondered aloud.

“My bet is the bartender, he gave clay the shots.”

Sonny pounded his fist into his open hand swearing he’d break the bartender’s nose for what he did.

Trent realized his mistake of getting Sonny worked up over something he had no proof over and had to walk Sonny back from the ledge of racing to the bar. His attempt to calm Sonny ended when they heard the familiar sound of puking coming from the spare bedroom. Clay was on his hands and knees, head over the toilet, but nothing was coming up and out likely that he had already emptied the contents of his stomach. Trent slightly shook his head no and Sonny knew that meant not to say a word to Clay about the drugged suspicion. Trent excused himself so he could get to his buddy’s clinic to have Clay’s blood tested. If he went to base, he’d have to divulge who he was testing and would go on Spenser’s jacket regardless of whether he was at fault or not. Trent’s friend was an ex-medic for Alpha when Trent first started.

As Sonny was helping Clay up to sit on the side of the tub still close to the toilet, he heard Clay’s phone ring. 

“You want me to get that?”

“Yeah, if it’s Jason tell him I’m in the bathroom, will call him later.” It wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth.

“Mr. Spenser?” the man asked on the other line.

“Who’s asking?” 

The man chuckled hearing Sonny’s response to answering the phone the same as last night. 

“It’s Officer Seabright. We met last night.”

“Yeah, I remember. Clay isn’t up to talking right now,” Sonny explained.

“That’s why I was calling. I wanted to see how he was doing.”

“He’s hung over, but he got a bag of fluids.”

“Did he go to the ER?” the officer asked.

Sonny knew that police officers didn’t make a habit of calling on those they have to deal with, especially for those who pass out in public.

“No, our medic came over. He calls it a banana bag.”

“I see. Um….we need him to come to the station to answer a few questions.”

“You said you weren’t gonna have to arrest him if I came and got him,” Sonny stated, feeling the pit in his stomach that this all wasn’t just going to go away.

“No, no, no, he’s not in any trouble, we just have a few questions about his night.”

“I’ll bring him down as soon as I can.”

“Mr. Quinn, I want you to stop by the clinic on Phillip St before you come to the station.” 

When Seabright wasn’t questioned why by Sonny, he realized that he speculated it was more than alcohol.

“Our medic already did, having it run at a clinic, I’ll tell him to meet us at the station.”

Clay had managed to make it to the bed without puking or stumbling, but he was discouraged when Sonny told him he needed to get cleaned up to go to the station. The fear was evident on Clay’s face as he asked what had happened that he needed to be questioned. 

“Sonny, did I do something I don’t remember? Maybe I need to call Jason, he can smooth things over.” 

Sonny calmed Clay’s fears.

“No, you didn’t do anything. Just have a few questions, you aren’t in trouble,” Sonny said as he soothed Clay’s wondering mind.

“Now get up and in the shower. You still have clothes in the closet,” Sonny stated before he left the room to call Trent and Jason. 

Clay rid himself of the only piece of clothing he still had on, his boxers, as he turned on the warm shower. As he stood under the water, he let it soothe his aching head and the tension in his shoulders as a result. The steam quickly filled the tiny bathroom as he scrubbed his body with soap after he dumped shampoo on the mop he called hair. 

As he washed the soap from his body, his hands felt the scars he bore from his time as an operator. His biggest scar was on his leg from when he was blown up in Manila. The scar on the upper left of his chest from a through and through was the next scar his fingers touched. He let himself go back to Iraq when he had been cut off from the team and was shot. He shook his head to now rid his mind of the event. 

The scar on his ribs under his right arm was from a chest tube done in the field. He remembers Trent carefully pulling the dart out of his right peck. They had been in Mongolia in a village that used every means necessary to defend themselves, including darts and arrows. Until the villagers realized they were the good guys, they also hit Cerb in the hind leg, which made Brock see red. He didn’t care that the villagers apologized, someone had hurt his teammates. While Cerb didn’t suffer any lasting effects, he was in pain and sidelined for a week. Brock would risk his life for Cerb’s, just like he would for any of his human teammates.

Clay stood under the showerhead washing away the shampoo in his hair. The suds made their way down to his toned shoulders then down over his rippled abs and over his firm butt. He watched as the remaining suds coursed down his muscular legs. As the water started to get cool, he finished up. He shook his head like a wet dog before toweling off. He checked to make sure the bedroom door was shut before walking out of the bathroom nude, leaving his towel behind. He bent over to open the lowest drawer on the dresser for boxers and socks, then reached above his head in the closet for a shirt and pants. He had to tug the boxers up his legs as he was still damp and had put on more muscle since he stayed at Sonny’s last year.

“Clay, can you go over what you remember from last night?” Officer Seabright asked Clay when he was settled in the conference room at the station. Before he could answer, Trent rushed in with Jason on his heels, a file folder in his hands.

“Rohypnol. You have rohypnol in your blood system,” Trent declared as he shoved the paperwork in front of his younger teammate.

“What’s that?” Sonny asked, perplexed why Trent would be happy about some drug in Spenser’s system.

“Have you heard of the date rape drug? That’s rohypnol,” Trent stated, answering the question.

“How the hell is that possible? I’ve never taken drugs. Jason, you gotta believe me!” Clay pleaded, looking devastated and needing comfort from his team leader. 

Jason could see that light and sound were still bothering Clay so he quietly told him that he knew Clay would never take that without knowing. He also assured him that the results will never see the inside of his military jacket. Clay blew out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he waited to hear from Jason.

Seabright excused himself but was quickly back in the room with a couple more files similar to the one Trent had given Clay. 

“We’ve had 3 reports in the past year about possible druggings in bars in that area. Two men reported their suspicions too late so if they had been drugged, the drug was already out of their system.

“And the third?” Clay asked.

“He was the first, and likely the test subject. He ended up not making it and his sister swore up and down he’d never take drugs.”

Jason cut in asking to see pictures of the other 3. Sure enough, Jason got his query answered as all of the men were of similar size, build and age. They were all good looking white men in their late 20’s.

“Let me check one more thing,” Seabright said as he flipped through the stack of papers.

“Well, I’ll be. The same bartender served all 4 of you, he was the one who made the call to the cops on all 4 occasions,” the officer told the men as he leaned back in his chair.

“Is that enough to arrest him?” Clay asked.

“Yes, it’s enough to arrest him and search both his place and the bar. Thanks to your medic, we now know that the other cases are linked because if he wouldn’t have drawn the blood, we may not have gotten it done in time.”

Clay stood up to shake the officers hand but got up too quickly. The room started to spin and he found a trash can in front of his face right before he heaved a few more times. His heart beat was pulsing in his head as hands guided him back to the chair.

“Damn Trent, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck and it keeps driving over my head.”

“Let’s get you to base, get you more fluids and something for the pain. Whether you chose to take the drug or not, you still have to suffer through the consequences. Sorry man.”

“At least you know now I didn’t get drunk,” Clay lamented.

“But you did go to the Red Rose tavern,” Sonny commented.

“And you didn’t call me,” Jason stated firmly, but empathetically as he wrapped an arm around Clay’s shoulders once they were all in the truck.

He gently squeezed, then left his arm where it was as they drove to base. Clay smiled despite the pain, he finally had a family that cared about him, that would come in an instant, that would circle around him when he was hurt or sick. It was the best feeling he had ever experienced. He knew that he was going to be alright even without Stella or Rebecca because he had everything he needed in his life. Brothers, well, brothers that sometimes act like his dad should have acted as a parent. He settled back into Jason’s side a bit more, the most content he has felt in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head today. Haven’t written for a few months and decided to try something fluffier, a feel good one shot. I wrote it in a few hours and edited it myself so there may be mistakes. Not sure I like writing about non-mission issues as I prefer to do stories of the men on missions, but wanted to get this out so I could focus on more writing.


End file.
